


Cinderscramble

by Subject_0mega



Category: Dark Souls III
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8002360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subject_0mega/pseuds/Subject_0mega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ashen One wakes up in the Cemetery of Ash, but something feels different. As they explore and meet new people, it will become even more apparent that something has shifted. </p>
<p>[Basic concept: Line up all of the major characters, cut out strips of paper with their names on it, and then pull names while going down the list. Characters can stay as themselves if they are pulled, and there will be no switching in pairs or groups, with the obvious exception of the Undead Legion. Characters will not have switched personalities [unless they have no established personality, then I will just write them similarly to their swap.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

       

The Ashen One stepped into Firelink Shrine, dust blew past over the ancient stone floor as their footsteps echoed out. Making their way to the center of the room, they planted the Coiled Sword in the spent embers of the bonfire, feeling heat surge past them as it came to life.  
       Looking around, they felt the overwhelming urge to explore the place wash over them. Above them, five thrones loomed, and they had noticed someone sitting upon the one just left of the center. The Ashen One climbed the stairs, stopping to read the inscription carved into the back. Eygon, Knight of Carim.  
       Stepping down onto the throne’s platform, they had a closer look at the human form propped up in it. His armor was irreparably charred, cracks snaking their way over its surface. The head looked like something one would see decorating the outside of a church atop the body of a gargoyle, and the body, despite how it had compressed around the knight’s ribcage, looked to be made of some strange stone.  
       “Another one of you Unkindled, come to gawk at this sorry corpse,” what the Ashen One assumed to be Eygon startled them by speaking up. “No manners, the lot of you. Well, I linked the Fire a long time ago, this charred cadaver was the result.”  
       They looked at him for a bit, still intent on talking.  
       “What? Are you worried I’ll up and leave?” his helmet covered head cocked slightly. “Don’t fret, I am a Lord, and this is my throne. I intend on staying in it.”  
       The Ashen One still stood before him, causing him to give an exasperated huff.  
       “You know your purpose, don’t you?” he grumbled. “These five thrones need five Lords, so be gone with you on your journey. The Flame can’t wait forever. Go play champion, you’ve got Lords to slay.”  
       They carefully jumped from the platform before he had a chance to hurry them off. Noticing an entirely new area at the back, curiosity urged them to explore for a while longer. Moving through the arched entryway, they say a figure hammering something over an anvil. A smith would be useful, and they also wanted to see if he was better at holding a conversation than Eygon. They noticed his garb, the signature outfit of a cleric. It was only when they were standing in front of him, that he looked up.  
       “Oh, hello, a new arrival? Unkindled too?” he asked.  
       The Ashen One nodded.  
       “Good, it’s about time,” he commented, putting down his hammer. “Then I suppose you’ll need my services. I suppose you already know this, but I'm a smith, and will gladly give my assistance.”  
       They pointed towards his outfit and cocked their head.  
       “Ah, yes, I am a cleric,” he stated, “but smithing has been an interest of mine for a while. When you live for as long as us Undead tend to, you have time to learn all sorts of things. But if you really want to see my best work, bring me coals.”  
       They nodded, then realized something: he never said his name. Pointing to him, they gave a questioning look.  
       “Ah, pardon my manners,” he began, “I forgot to even introduce myself, haven’t I?”  
       They nodded once again.  
       “I’m Aldrich,” he stated, “former cleric, now smith to you. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”  
       The gave a small bow in response.  
       “Stay safe,” he waved, “don’t get eaten up out there.”  
       Walking back towards the bonfire, the Ashen One looked around the shrine. Not one person other than those they met were to be seen. As they stood before the coiled sword, a small shadow of movement, almost out of sight, caught their eye. Turning in that direction, they noticed someone that they had missed before. He was a small, almost frail looking man, crouched beside one of the pillars. He wore a hood, and a cloth was pulled over the bottom half of his face. As they approached, he made no effort to back away, but still looked cautious.  
       “Ahh, judging by the bell, you must be another one, roused from the sleep of death,” he stated, his accent incredibly distinct from those they had met before. “Well, you are not alone. We Unkindled have a duty: to seek the Lords of Cinder and return them to their mouldering thrones. But we're talking true legends with the mettle to link the fire. I’m just a deserter… and a thief… I’m not even fit to lick their boots. Maybe you have it in you, but not me.”

After they were sure he was done saying his part, the Unkindled headed back to the bonfire, the High Wall of Lothric their destination.


	2. The Prisoner and the Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ashen One meets a new ally that they discover in a cell on the High Wall of Lothric, and encounter a rather out of place traveller at Firelink Shrine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being away for so long, I've just been really upset with this fandom over something that happened recently. Hope you enjoy this chapter, it has some really weird swaps, but not the weirdest we're going to see.

       Taking a sip of estus, the Ashen One wiped some of the blood off of their helmet. It had taken some time, but they had finally managed to clear out the room, and the products of their effort lay scattered around and dripping along the floor. Grabbing the dull green shard from the anvil, they went down the short steps and picked up the key that they were sure would unlock the door to the cell.  
       Heading back up the stairs, they picked up their pace. Sprinting past the archers, up the ladder, and over the rooftop, they headed for the jail. Knowing that they would have to fight their way there, the Ashen One readied themself once more.  
       Going down, they quickly dispatched a large hollow wielding a halberd. Skirting the wall, they looked into the next room. It was filled with barrels, if they weren’t careful, they’d have an explosion on their hand. Charging, they thrust their sword quickly into the hollow that had already readied a firebomb. Tossing their body aside, the knight proceeded to the next area. Slowly, the Ashen One snuck up in the figure leaning against the wall with their back turned away from the door. With a quick swing, they fell to the floor just as easily as the last.  
       Looking around, the now lone knight could neither hear nor see any other enemies. Pulling out a dark cloth, they wiped some of the blood from their helmet before tucking it away again. Proceeding down towards the single cell, they withdrew the key from the pouch they had stored it in. Looking into the cell, the man looked up curiously from where he sat on the rug. Unlocking the door, they pushed open the door and walked over to him.  
       “No, no, you’re not a jailer. This place is for criminals, not for folk like you. Or perhaps you are a malefactor posing as otherwise?” the old knight rambled. “You’re Unkindled, aren’t you? Before madness takes you, I have a favor to ask. This isn’t for charity of course, there will be a reward. Take this.”  
       The knight outstretched a hand to the Ashen One, seemingly from within the filthy rags that wrapped around his golden gauntlets, a tarnished, thin ring fell into the hand they offered him. The rest of his armor was similarly faded.  
       “Find my dear little granddaughter, Sirris, and give this to her. She was quite taken with the idea of knighthood. If that’s the path she’s taken, I’m sure asking someone who speaking to many travellers would be fruitful,” he explained. “Will you do this for me?”  
       With nothing to lose and a reward promised to them, the Ashen One nodded their acceptance.  
       “Very well, I place my faith in you,” he pulled down the wrapping around his face to offer them a smile almost as tainted with madness as the wrappings on his armor were with dirt. “Give the ring to Sirris. Do your part and I’ll do mine.”  
       In a cloud of ash, he disappeared, the Firelink Shrine his most likely destination. Producing a bone, they followed suit and returned to the shrine.  
       The ash around them cleared and they stood in front of the bonfire. Turning to go farther into the shrine, the knight, who had seen a great deal of things over their time, nearly jumped. Seated at the steps, was a gigantic man in black tinted brass armor. Leaning up against the wall behind him was a large sword, charred and smouldering, as if the fires that produced its mangled appearance hadn’t yet died. The uppermost portion his face was concealed by a large crown, the top modelled after flames.  
       Curiously, yet cautiously, they approached him. As they got closer, they couldn’t see his eyes, but they could tell by the way his mouth was that he was confused. Mouthing something in realization he smiled, and they already stood before of him.  
       “No need to hide thine wonder,” he gave a rumbling laugh. “I am considerably… Stranger than most. But I assure thee, thou hast no reason to feel afraid. Lorian, Elder Prince, is the name of mineself, former knight of Lothric, the Holy King. Thou art Unkindled, art thou not? We each have a duty we must bear, but the duty of Lord Seeker is one we do not share. Now, I must continue on my quest to find an old friend. One’s duty is often a solitary affair, as I have found mine own to be. But perhaps we might meet again? On paths like ours, one can only hope, something thou’rt familiar with, I am sure.”  
       He gave a small bow, and the knight, made small in comparison, gave one back before continuing farther into the shrine.  
       At the back, on a small stool over a mat, Hodrick was sitting alone. The Ashen One stood still for a moment, thinking about who they could talk to to find the woman Hodrick was talking about. Turning around, they had a realization. The Shine Handmaid, must meet travellers from all around.  
       Taking a few steps over to her, she looked up at them expectantly.  
       “Ah well met, Ashen One, have you an interest in my wares?” the old woman asked as they shuffled through their belonging, looking for the ring.  
       Shaking their head, they held the faded thing forward. She looked at it, and took it into her hands. Sighing, she traced her finger over the little gem, deep in thought.  
       “Ashen One, what a pitiful thing this is. Small and ineffective. What kind of place did thou acquire something such as this?”  
       The knight pointed back towards where Hodrick was. Leaning over to see him, the handmaid shook her head.  
       “Yes, I see,” she whispered before leaning back. “Tell that fool, Sirris is gone. All those years he was away, she became a knight and served the divinity and later forsook that purpose. One day she headed off to Lothric Castle, following a foolish bumbling oaf. She will not be found.”  
       The Ashen One nodded. Giving her a small bow of thanks, they turned back towards Hodrick. Steeling themself, the knight gathered up the courage to tell him the fate of his granddaughter. Walking down the steps, they gently placed a hand on his back. Despite the look he gave them, they slipped the ring back into his hand. Looking back down at the tarnished trinket, the look of fear only grew.  
       “What’s this for? What of Sirris?”  
       The Ashen One shook their head in response. He looked down at the ring, gave a huffing laugh before turning back to them.  
       “I see,” he whispered. “You have my gratitude for trying.”  
       Handing the ring back to them, he looked down at the ground.  
       “You can keep the ring, as a token of thanks.”  
       The Ashen One nodded, standing up. They decided he needed time alone. Walking up the steps, they turned back once more. Hodrick was sobbing quietly to himself, alone on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading! As always, comments, feedback, and kudos are appreciated greatly!


End file.
